


I Will Make You Believe (You Are Lovely)

by HazelDomain



Category: Supernatural
Genre: ALL THE NIPPLES, Abortion, And violence, Blood, Body Horror, Body Modification, Cas and Sam scare a nurse, Chestburster, Dean Has Breasts, Field Surgery, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Imprisonment, Kidnapping, M/M, Monster Baby, Monsters, Mpreg, Nipple Play, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Post Mpreg, Scars, Surgery, extra nipples, fluff and violence, post body modification, there was already a tag for chestburster
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-12
Updated: 2016-08-12
Packaged: 2018-08-08 05:48:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7745593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HazelDomain/pseuds/HazelDomain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt:   So there's a lot of fics where Dean gets caught by a monster and bred until he's pregnant. I'd like a fic about afterwards, how he's dealing with his changed body and feeling shamed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Will Make You Believe (You Are Lovely)

**Author's Note:**

> Title and soundtrack from [Lovely](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kv0dRCe7xZg) by 21 pilots. It came on while I was writing and then I listened to it nineteen times while I wrote. I've never heard it before. Coincidence. Ha. 
> 
> Linking the "regional at best" version because turning autotune up to eleven is my aesthetic.

 

After it was all over, Dean started wearing clothes to sleep.

 

 

 

Cas was used to the feel of Dean’s skin on his own, the two of them curled together in the hunter’s bed, naked after the obligatory round of lovemaking. But that had been before.

They’d lost Dean for six full weeks.

Six weeks of witches and deals and tracking spells and the whole time he’d been less than two miles from the place he’d vanished, the place they’d found the car.

They still weren’t sure what had taken him. The thing in the cave with him had been half-dead already, a pale, pink, writhing thing that Cas had burned to embers almost the moment he saw it.

And Dean-

Dean had been mostly catatonic by that point. Whether it was due to the monster or his own mental defenses, they weren’t sure, but by the time they were able to extract his filthy, battered body from the creature’s clutches, he was incapable of more than the occasional twitch of pain.

Castiel had pulled him into the backseat and held him as Sam drove. Dean’s body curled protectively around his swollen belly and when Cas put his hand against the stretched flesh he could feel something inside. Moving.

He told Sam to hurry.

 

They couldn’t take him to a hospital, not with that thing inside him.

The infirmary in the bunker had some medical supplies, high-tech circa 1955, but it was enough to do an xray.

Cas stayed with Dean, insisting that he’d been exploded by an archangel and he could handle a little radiation.

The picture, when it came out, showed the three of them locked together. Dean lying back, Castiel’s arms around his shoulders, and the little creature curled up in his lower belly.

It wasn’t human.

Looking at it, Sam could identify basic human parts- a skull, a ribcage, a pelvis. Arms. Legs. All of it, too long. Six fingers to a hand, each of them easily four inches already. Sam stared at the negative, pinned to the light board. Cas waited behind him, refusing to leave Dean’s side.

“So what do we do with that?” Sam asked quietly.

“Get it out,” came the response. Sam turned quickly. Dean’s eyes were open. Sunken and bruised, but open. Dean wasn’t looking at him. Dean was staring at the xray.

“It might be a person, Dean,” Sam said. “It’s half monster but… we don’t know what it’ll be.”

“I know what it is,” Dean growled. “It’s _in_ me.”

His hands ghosted over his belly, then pulled back before he could bring himself to actually touch his skin.

“Get it out.”

 

 

Sam had no problems cutting into things. It’s not like he was squeamish.

Most of the things he cut into died, but he knew how to work around that. He was pretty sure.

The problem was that they didn’t know where, exactly, the thing was.

Dean was doped to the gills with just about everything they’d been able to find in the impala’s trunk, plus a few slugs of bourbon besides. He was only vaguely aware of what was happening to him and with any luck, he wouldn’t be able to feel it. Much.

Cas and Sam pored over the x-ray and did what they could to figure out where in Dean’s body the thing had implanted.

The warehouse they found was about three blocks from the hospital. Sam laid a clean tarp over an abandoned mattress, and Cas set up a couple lights. They doused the whole area in rubbing alcohol and cleaned the blades.

The plan was to get in, get out, and get Dean to the ER with a story about a mugging gone wrong. It wouldn’t fly- exploratory surgery wasn’t a stabbing, no matter how you dressed it up- and in any case, Dean’s belly was swollen and stretched and the skin was already tearing in long, parallel stripes.

But they wouldn’t let him bleed out, and that was the important part.

Cas carried Dean from the car, laying him out on the makeshift bed. Sam rolled his sleeves up, rubbed himself down with alcohol again, and picked up the knife.

 

Dean carried the thing high. It made sense- he didn’t have a uterus.

Sam knew how this would go, if Dean were a woman and the thing inside him were human.

The easiest way- the least traumatic way- would be to dismember the thing and bring it out in pieces, keeping the incision small.

Sam didn’t want to cut into the creature, not if he could help it. Even assuming it didn’t have acid for blood, he didn’t want to risk it infecting Dean or, even worse, missing a piece and leaving it inside to create and infection. So it would have to come out whole.

Dean hadn’t said what had happened- how it had gotten inside him.

Cas had some theories.

Probably not the mouth, Cas thought. The stomach was acidic and subject to peristalsis, neither of which were likely to be good for a growing embryo.

Cas thought it was most likely that it had implanted somewhere in the transverse colon, which was probably overall better news as far as getting it out went.

He was right, as it turned out.

Sam straddled Dean’s thighs and Cas held his shoulders down and Sam pushed his shirt up and Cas gave him a belt to bite down on and then Sam made the first cut and Dean screamed. He tried to get away from the blade but Sam and Cas held him still, forcing him down into the cheap tarp as dark blood streamed over the pale skin of his belly.

The thing was huge. It had looked small in the xray, surrounded by cloudy black empty areas, but once Sam could actually see it, it was _huge._ He figured ten pounds, probably, though it was hard to tell with the way the thing was tucked into itself. It had no baby fat- it’s bloody limbs were long and spindly, it’s chest was bony and sharp. It had too many digits and the digits had too many joints, and when it looked up at Sam, six black eyes blinked in tandem.

Sam pulled it from his brother’s body, dumping it onto the mattress and pulling at the stringy umbilicals that remained inside. They withdrew from Dean’s entrails like fleshy white tapeworms, and Dean screamed in agony as they detached. Sam stared in horror at the writhing bloody mess in his hands.

“We have to _go!_ ” Cas shouted, and Sam snapped back to himself, picking up the folded sheet they’d put aside. He pressed it hard to the incision and Cas was on it immediately, wrapping layers of tape tight around Dean’s midriff. The sheet was already soaking through by the time they’d hoisted Dean to his feet, carrying him slung between them, one arm across each shoulder.

“Wait,” Dean slurred. “Wait, wait-”

He turned his head, looking back toward the gory mess they’d left behind. The fetal creature rolled weakly in the cooling puddle of it’s father’s blood, looking up at them, watching them go. It twitched twice, and was still.

 

To make a long story short, Dean did not bleed to death. He lost a couple inches of his large intestine and he spent a week in the hospital getting most of his nutrition through an IV, but he didn’t die. Sam’s incision ended up being fourteen inches long, all told. Cas looked at it for a long time, and Sam could see him lamenting his lack of grace. To his credit, he was able to refrain from touching it.

There were seventy-eight stitches, Sam told Dean when he woke up. Dean didn’t want to look at it. He kept the scratchy hospital blanket pulled up to his neck and when the nurse came in to try to get him into the shower, he told her in no uncertain terms to fuck off. It wasn’t the first time she’d been greeted that way, but something about the glowering giant and the man with the lightning-blue eyes made her decide to make an exception.

“You’re going to get an infection,” Sam told him. Dean flipped him the bird.

On the fourth day, the insurance card was declined and Sam went into damage control mode. He’d already gone back to the warehouse and burnt the mattress, the tarp, and the desiccated corpse of the little monster.

There were already a good number of questions from the medical staff. They wanted to know what kind of mugger leaves a long, shallow, horizontal incision. They wanted to know what kind of knife leaves abrasions and bleeding along the inner linings of the organs it pierces. They wanted to know why the section of intestine they removed was thick and scarred and almost twenty five inches in diameter.

They wanted to know why Dean’s skin was tiger-striped from the bottom of his ribcage all the way down to his hips.

Sam didn’t have answers. He feigned ignorance, claimed his brother had been involved with drugs. Maybe it was a gang thing.

They didn’t buy it, not for a damn second, but two days later Dean was cleared for solid food and the three of them vanished.

 

Cas wanted to know if he needed help bathing, what with the stitches and all. Dean flipped him the bird and stalked off to the bathroom alone.

Fifteen minutes later came the sound of glass smashing. Sam cleaned up the broken pieces of the mirror. Dean bandaged his own hand.

Cas slept in his own room for a while. Dean didn’t sleep through the night, even with the drugs Sam gave him, and he didn’t want to wake the angel with his tossing. Cas would have stayed. Dean didn’t want him to.

He wore long sleeves and sweatpants. Cas missed the feel of his skin.

He healed and finally, two months after coming back to the bunker, Cas lingered in his doorway and Dean asked him to stay.

They curled awkwardly around each other. Cas’s hand rested on the cloth over Dean’s belly and Dean knew he was fighting for the grace that pulsed there, just below the surface, strong enough to burn the Earth and too weak to escape his fingertips.

They didn’t make love. Not at first.

 

Their lips met in the dark, soft and frantic, and Cas pressed himself against the length of Dean’s body, yearning. His fingertips sought the edge of Dean’s shirt, slipped underneath, skimmed across the ragged keloids of his belly. Dean pulled back like he’d been burned, shoving the hem of his shirt down over his hips.

“Don’t,” he said gruffly, and then he turned away and Cas was left to curl up against his back.

“I love you,” Cas said quietly. Dean didn’t respond.

 

Four months passed that way. Four months of fully-clothed blowjobs and quick, easy handjobs, and Dean showering alone, and locking the door to the bedroom when he changed.

Four months and Cas couldn’t take it any more. He sat on the bed, pulling Dean into his lap, letting their foreheads rest together, and he said “I miss you.”

“You don’t want to see, Cas.”

The angel’s kisses were feather-soft.

“I always want to see you,” Cas murmured. “You’ll always be beautiful to me.”

“That is the sappiest _shit,_ ” Dean groaned, but he was smiling, and there were tears glistening in his lashes. “And it’s not even true.”

“It is true,” Cas answered, pulling him tighter. “And I want to prove it to you.”

Dean froze.

“Cas… you don’t get it… I’m _ruined._ ” He pulled back, moving to sit on the bed beside Cas. “Like I always knew I was gonna bite it fighting some monster someday, you know? There aren’t a lot of old hunters. And when you find ‘em, they’re usually not in one piece. So I’ve always been kinda ready to get, like, an ear bitten off or something. But this…” He grasped the hem of his shirt, pushing it down further. “Fucking _stretch_ marks, man. They ain’t subtle, either.” He paused. “That fucking thing grew real fast. Kinda wondered how it intended to get out.”

Cas frowned.

“Sam had a theory about a breed of creature known as a ‘chest burster.’”

Dean laughed.

“I don’t think so. I dunno how, but I think I was supposed to survive.” He fingered the edge of his shirt. “I think that after it was born, I was supposed to take care of it.”

“I don’t see how that could have been possible, Dean. At the rate your body was changing-”

Dean snorted.

“You don’t know the half of it.” He glanced at Cas, gauging his reaction. “It changed… more. After.”

“After the fetus was removed?”

“Yeah.”

Dean stared at his knees.

“Dean,” Cas said gently. “Please let me see.”

“You’re never going to want to fuck me again.”

“I promise you that that is not true.”

Dean hauled in a breath.

“Cas?”

“Yes, Dean?”

“Do you think that thing… could it have been a person? Do you think?”

“There’s no way to know. We don’t know what the other parent was- and even if we did, there would be no way to gauge the temperament of a cross-species offspring.”

“Yeah. That’s what I figured. I just… I thought it was gonna kill me. And I saw that xray and it looked _so_ fucked up, and it hurt, Cas, it hurt _so bad_ and I thought it was going to kill me. Tear its way out of me and leave me to die.”

Cas regarded him carefully.

“And now?”

Dean paused. Breathed deep. Closed his eyes.

Lifted his shirt up.

The musculature of his chest and abdomen had changed, Cas could see that immediately. There was an extra layer of what looked like fat across his belly, but not evenly, more like hills-

The skin was striped with angry red scars, raised and twisted, crossing and intersecting each other. It made the familiar planes of Dean’s body hard to recognize, but once he saw it, the round dark marks where nothing had been before-

Cas sucked in a breath.

“They were bigger, before,” Dean said quietly. He didn’t open his eyes.

Nipples. To be specific, breasts. Four of them on his belly, six total.

“They… you were meant to feed it,” Cas breathed.

“Fucked up, right?” Dean sounded tired. “I’ve been second guessing myself for weeks. Sure it was an ugly motherfucker and, you know, not human. But I’m not sure it would have been a monster.”

“There’s no way you could have known.”

Dean dropped his shirt.

“Well now you’ve seen. I’m a mangled mess with mutant bitch-tits besides. Sorry to say it, but that’s how it is.”

“You are not a mess,” Cas said, leaning over to press a kiss to his cheek. “You have scars. It doesn’t make you less beautiful.”

“Yeah, it kinda does,” Dean muttered.

“Not to me.”

Dean let Cas push him down onto the bed, moaning as the angel mouthed at his throat. Cas’s hands delved beneath the thin cotton shirt, feeling the marred braille of his skin. His thumb rubbed against a nipple and Dean hissed.

“Do you want me to stop?”

Dean hesitated.

“Nah… it’s good.”

Cas knelt over him, pushing the shirt higher on his chest. His tongue laved along the lines of the dark scars, making Dean whimper at the contact. It felt different on the skin there- sharper, more intense somehow.

He followed the lines up Dean’s body, toward his chest, his fingers and mouth kneading gently at the mottled skin.

“Should turn the light off,” Dean grumbled, but Cas shushed him.

“I want to see you,” the angel murmured against Dean’s ribcage. His tongue flicked against one of the nipples, and Dean shivered. Cas moved down, repeating the process with the two below. Each one gave him a similar reaction. He smiled, pinching one of the nubs between two fingers, rolling it until it stiffened.

“Gah- Cas, that’s-”

“I know,” Cas replied. Dean’s hardon was pressing insistently up against him, letting him know just how good it felt to have the extra features played with.

Dean rose until he was half-sitting, tearing the shirt over his head and tossing it into a corner. Cas was on him immediately, caressing and kissing every inch of his scarred skin. He licked across the hardened nipples, nipping at them with his teeth, loving the sounds Dean made when he touched them.

The ragged scars disappeared beneath Dean’s jeans, and Cas nearly tore the zip in his hurry to get it off. He pulled at the clothing, baring Dean’s hips and thighs, kissing along the scars marring his lower belly. Dean’s cock bobbed against his cheek, insistent and leaking. Dean pulled at Cas’s shirt, pulling it over his head, drawing the angel up to catch his lips.

“I need you in me,” Cas murmured between the wet presses of their lips. “Dean, _please._ ”

He ground his hips down against Dean’s cock, emphasizing his point.

“’s been a long time,” Dean answered. Cas smiled, and leaned in to kiss him again.

“We’ll go slow.”

 

 

 

After it was all over, Dean stopped wearing clothes to sleep.

 

**Author's Note:**

> So you sit down to write a kink and then you write 2,500 words of backstory explaining how we got to where the sex is going to happen. 
> 
> And then there's no sex. 
> 
> Ha ha. 
> 
> Rosewhipped, get your loudspeaker in here. 
> 
> NO MORE TALKING. HAVE SEX PLEASE. NO MORE TALKING. 
> 
>  
> 
> God, I'm tired. 
> 
> Uh, so I shouldn't be writing right now, honestly, because I am not bringing my A game, but I've got enough kinkmeme tabs open that it's actually starting to affect my ability to use my computer, so, here we go. 
> 
> *knuckle crack*
> 
> Let's fucking do this.


End file.
